Time After Time
by Miss Mudpie
Summary: He always knew.  She needed a little more time.  1980s College-ward.


**Age of Edward Contest**

**Pen Name: Miss Mudpie**

**Title: Time After Time**

**Type of Edward: 80's Edward…mostly.**

**Word Count: 10250**

**A/N: I originally wrote this for the Age of Edward 2012 Contest, but then fanfiction failed last night. The deadline has passed, so I don't know if this will be counted, but I figured I would post it anyways.**

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**Athens, 460 BC**

He saw her across the agora, her brown hair tied in an elaborate crown above her head. She was alone, with no male companions, and the robes she wore were those of a hetaera. He could not see her face, and yet he felt a longing for her that could not be explained. He was drawn to her, and his legs made to move towards her without his control. If he could only see her face…

But then his master called him back, and the slave dutifully returned to his side.

He looked for her every day he visited the agora, but he never found her again.

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**Ithaca, NY, August, 1982**

"Dad, I'm going to be fine," I say for the fifth time. "You're going to miss your flight."

He sighs as he starts up the engine of the rental car. "You sure your coat is heavy enough?"

"It's summer."

"Yeah, but winter here's going to be longer and colder."

"I'll be fine."

"And you'll call home every Sunday."

"Dad…"

He smiles. "Okay, okay." He pauses. "I'm really proud of you, Bells. You do good here."

My eyes start to sting and I swallow down the lump that's suddenly appeared in my throat. I can't cry in front of Dad, or he'll never leave. "I will, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too." His voice is a little hoarse, and for a second I think I'm going to see Chief Charlie Swan actually shed some tears. Then I'd definitely be done for. But luckily Dad gets a hold of himself. With a final wave, he pulls away from the dorm and drives away.

And just like that, I'm a college student.

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Even though it's the end of August, it's not really that hot, and the breeze coming up from the lake sometimes makes the skin on my arms get Goosebumps. Still, by the time I've lugged my sax from my dorm (Mary Donlon, on North Campus, with all the personality of a state penitentiary) to Barton (all the way across campus, by the football stadium) I'm hot and sticky and I know I can't smell all that great. Totally not how I planned to show up to my audition.

The band room is nothing like the one back at Forks High. I mean, sure, we didn't have a lot of money, but at least we had, you know- carpeting. And things were organized. Here it seems organized chaos takes the day. Kids are sitting around in red folding chairs, chatting, laughing and- oh God Mr. Banner would die- eating. I look around and all I can think is, Where are the adults?

"Hi, are you here to audition?"

It takes me a second to realize she's talking to me. "Uh, yeah."

She smiles. "Awesome. Come on in. I'm Ez. That's a tenor, right?" She nods at my beat-up old case.

"Yeah." No one would ever believe that I scored a 780 on my SAT verbal.

"Excellent. We need another girl playing tenor. Come on, saxes are over here."

I quickly learn that Ez is short for Esme ("My mom was on some French kick or some shit," she says with a roll of her eyes), she's a senior, a tenor and the section leader. There's also something going on between her and Carlisle, who holds her position in the trumpet section. None of the other saxes say anything, and she's super attentive to me and the other freshmen that trickle in, but she always seems to know where he is in the room. When he comes over the steal some of the cookies she's made and ask if she's going out tonight, Ez gets a little pink in the cheeks.

I hang out for a little while and then join the group of mostly freshmen that's headed down to some place called CTB. I kind of want to just go back to my room, but I can already tell my roommate is going to be a bit of a bitch and Dad is always getting on me to me to try new things, so I go. Turns out CTB stands for College Town Bagels. And it's there, sitting on the half wall and balancing my pizza bagel on my knees, that I meet Alice.

We're both quiet at first, just two shy freshman sharing space on a crowded wall. But then I hear her take a big breath, like she's psyching herself up, and she turns to me and says, "I'm Alice. What's your name?"

"Bella." I smile, she smiles, and the strangest thing happens. We just start talking.

"Where are you from?"

"This tiny little town in Washington, a few hours outside of Seattle. You?"

"Outside Biloxi. It's in Mississippi."

"Mississippi? You don't sound like it."

Alice laughs. "Wait 'til I've had a few, or I'm really mad. It'll come out." And as she gets more comfortable talking, I begin to hear a few slips in her accent.

"And you play flute, right?" She must, she's a tiny little thing with black hair cut like Joan Jett.

Again she laughs. "Everyone always thinks that. I played clarinet in middle school, then switched to trombone in high school."

"Why?"

"Because the other girls were all bitchy." She takes a bite of her egg salad on sesame, swallows and says, "There might have also been a guy…" And we both giggle, because we've all done crazy things for guys.

We take our time walking back to North Campus; it turns out Alice lives in the dorms next door to mine.

"You going to registration tomorrow?" she asks as we reach the fork in the sidewalk that leads to our dorms.

"Yeah. You?"

Alice nods. "Want to meet up for breakfast first and then walk down together?"

"Sounds good. 8:30?"

She smiles. "See ya then."

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Course registration takes longer than I thought it would, but in the end I get pretty much all of the classes I wanted. I'm taking Calc, because I have to; American Government, because it's a class law schools want you to have; Italian 101, because if I ever hear French again I'm going to scream; and Shakespeare, because I need a little fun in my schedule.

"I wish you were taking Psych 101. It's going to be awesome," Alice says as we walk to buy our books.

I wish I were, too; it seems like a rite of passage for freshmen here. Of course, the class means more to Alice, since psychology is her major. I'd have signed up for it, if the only section left for Calc hadn't conflicted. Stupid math.

"Stupid math," I say, and Alice rolls her eyes as if to say, "Totally."

We split up once we're in the store, agreeing to meet at the checkout line when we're done. My eyes bug out when I see the prices for these books, and I dig around, trying to find the best of the used ones.

My Shakespeare textbook is a green brick, but I can't help looking through it as I make my way from English to Math. My favorite subject in high school was always English. I think it hurt Mrs. Cope's feelings a little when I told her I planned to major in government. I love English- I just want to be a lawyer more.

I'm re-reading my favorite part of Midsummer Night's Dream ("How now, spirit, whither wander you?") and don't see him until it's too late. Our baskets collide an instant before I barrel into his side. My hold on the book falters, and, as if in slow motion, I watch as my green brick falls from my hands.

And lands right on his foot.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!" I lean down for my book just as he does, and we knock heads. "Ow!"

"No kidding, ow!" But he doesn't seem upset. He straightens up, book in hand. A weird look crosses over his face as we finally look at each other. He stares at me, just to the point that it's about to get weird, then clears his throat. "Are, uh, are you okay?"

No, I'm not okay. I'm mortified. I about ran this guy over. "I am so sorry."

He shrugs. "Don't worry about it." He hands over the brick. "So, Shakespeare, huh?"

It takes me a second to realize what he's talking about. "Oh, yeah. Shakespeare. It's for my class. On Shakespeare." I'm babbling and don't know how to stop. I imagine myself with a shovel, digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole of embarrassment.

But he just smiles. "Cool." And he's looking at me again, that weird look.

"Yeah. So, um, I gotta go…meet my friend."

"Okay."

"Sorry again."

"Not a problem. Just be safe out there."

"Right." I grin, just a little, because this whole thing could have been a hell of a lot more embarrassing, and then I head down the aisle. I think he watches me walk away, but I'm too chicken to turn around to check.

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**Magna Germania, 6 AD**

Antony slowly led his horse to the river. They had spent the last few hours riding hard, both exploring and securing the forest. Now, finally, it was evening. While his horse drank, Antony planned to wash away his sweat in the cool water.

Movement on the opposite bank startled him as he cleared the tree line, and his hand went instinctually for his sword. He reached the river just in time to see the backs of young girls fleeing into the woods. One, however, chose to stay behind, and now she stared defiantly at him from across the water. She was not particularly tall, but she seemed strong in both body and spirit. Her hair hung down in dark, wet strands, and her eyes shone with the pride Antony had seen many times in the men of these Germanic tribes.

In Rome she would not have been considered of any great beauty, but here, far away from civilization, Antony felt a stirring for her. He wanted to bed her, yes, but there was more than that. He wanted to hold her, teach her his language, watch her become mother to his sons. Perhaps she felt the same, because her posture relaxed and she actually smiled at him. Antony smiled back.

Caius, his fellow solider, called out for him then and made his way noisily through the trees. Antony turned his head away from her only for an instant, but it was enough.

She was gone.

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**Ithaca, NY, August-December, 1982**

When my alarm goes off again at 8:45am, it's all I can do not to reach over and hit the snooze button again. I sit up and rub the grit out of my eyes.

Rosalie, my roommate, is finishing pulling back her hair into a high ponytail. In our first week of living together, I've discovered my initial assessment wasn't completely correct. She's not a total bitch; I mean, she's been up for almost an hour and the only noises in the room came from my alarm clock. So she's considerate on that front. But she's also really standoffish and not particularly friendly. Whatever. I don't think we're going to be bosom buddies, but I think we'll survive the year without killing each other.

"Hey," she says as she gathers up her things.

"Morning," I say. "You got a 9:05?" Somehow I managed to escape having any classes in the first slot of the day.

"Yeah, so I gotta go."

"Okay. Well, have a good…." But she's already out the door.

Definitely not bosom buddies.

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At 10:06 I slide into my seat for my first college lecture. We're in a big lecture hall that we'll never fill, so everyone has plenty of room in which to spread out. I get out my blue notebook, turn to the front page and write the date in the upper-left hand corner. In the middle, I write, "Shakespeare- First Day."

I was expecting the professor to be an old English gentleman, dressed in a tweed jacket. Instead, he's young and speaks with a strong Midwestern accent. He introduces himself and the TAs as the syllabi slowly snake their way through the auditorium. The girl several seats to my left stretches her arm to give me the stack. There's no one else in our row, so I turn around to find the students behind me…

And there he is. The guy I ran into in the student store.

He's not directly behind me, but two seats to my right. For a second, I chalk it up to coincidence and have almost convinced myself that he doesn't remember me when his eyes meet mine and he smiles. "Thanks," he whispers, then turns to the students behind him to pass along the papers.

Prof. Iowa is explaining the class, so I make myself turn around and try to focus. It's hard, though, because now that I'm no longer primarily concerned with my own mortification, I notice how good-looking he is. He's got hair like Robert Redford and bright green eyes. He's sitting now, of course, but I remember from the store that he's tall, and I know from running into him that he's pretty solid. He's not bulky by any means, but he's definitely hiding some serious muscles underneath that plain black T-shirt. I resist looking back to check out his arms.

Fifty minutes later we're released. I bend down to stuff my pen and notebook and the green brick into my bag so I can hustle to my next class.

"How's your head?"

I whip my head up so fast I almost clock him in the chin. How the hell did he get in front of me? Did he climb over the row?

"Huh? Oh, it's, uh, it's fine. Yours?"

"Just a minor concussion." He grins.

It's times like these I wish I was that girl- the one with the quick comeback, the one who knows instinctively the perfect thing to say, a little funny, a little risqué, a lot flirty. But nothing comes to me and I find myself saying, "You didn't mention you were also taking this class."

His grin falters just for a second, like he's been caught (but caught doing what, I have no idea), and he just shrugs. "I got inspired."

It's almost like he's trying to flirt with me, and if high school taught me anything, it's that guys that look like him do not flirt with girls like me. So what's his angle? Whatever it is, I don't have time to figure it out now.

"Okay. I have class now."

"Okay. See you Wednesday?" He sounds….hopeful?

I simply nod.

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Wednesday, 10:07, and no sign of Robert Redford, Jr. I've just about convinced myself that I was a frat prank gone wrong when someone from the row behind slides into the seat next to me. Somehow, I don't even need to look up from labeling today's notes to know it's him.

"Hi. Alright if I sit here?" I nod. I hear him get out his things. Then: "Do I freak you out?"

The question catches me off-guard and I look over at him. "No. Why, should you?"

"No, no. I mean, I hope not. I don't want you to be. Freaked out, I mean."

Somehow, this makes him even cuter.

"I'm not," I assure him.

He looks like he wants to say something more, but Prof. Iowa has started lecture. After a minute, though, he slides over a scrap of paper.

_I'm Edward_.

_Bella_, I write back.

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I swear I hear him whisper my name.

Ez is seriously spazzing out.

"Hockey!" She shouts, hanging down from the ceiling. "Hockey Hockey Hockey!" She's got crazy eyes and is foaming like Old Yeller.

Okay, so she's not that bad. But she is majorly spazzing out.

"You don't understand, Bella," she says to me as we walk-run from the band room to Lynah Rink. It's the end of November and snow swirls around us in the frigid air. "You'll see. I'd never seen a hockey game in my life before I came here. But you get hooked." If there wasn't the risk of slipping and breaking her sax (or her neck), I swear Ez would be skipping right now.

It's amazing how quickly these people have become my family. Ez is like the big sister I never knew I needed, and Alice and I are practically joined at the hip. We've already made plans to live together next year.

The rink is warm only compared to the frozen wasteland outside. Ez quickly slides over the wide wooden bleachers to her place directly in front of Carlisle, where she then proceeds to ignore him. Seriously, those two need to just do it already.

"So," she says, snagging one of the copies of The Daily Sun that's being passed around. "What you need to do is find a freshman player." She flips to the sports section. "You know, I player you can root for from the beginning. Give it a few games if you want, but it's better to pick early. That way it's not like you're just getting on the bandwagon." She folds back the paper so only the team headshots are showing. "That's mine. Garrett Olson."

"Olson? Seriously?" Someone (Carlisle) says behind us. Ez ignores him, although she does smile a bit.

"He's not the best guy on the team, but he's mine and I'm loyal. Plus, he really knows how to handle his stick." This last bit is said just a bit louder. "Here."

She hands me the paper and I glance over the freshman players. Seth McKellan. Marcus Waterson. And-

"No way," I breathe.

It can't be him. But it definitely is.

"Edward Masen?" Ez looks over my shoulder. "He's cute."

"He's in my English class."

"No shit! You know him?"

I shrug. "I mean, we sit next to each other…." I trail off. Honestly, I don't know him. I mean, if I did, surely I would have known before now that he plays hockey. But we don't really talk. We just sit next to each other. And it's….nice. Comfortable, even though there's no reason why it should be.

"You should ask him out," Carlisle says, like he's been a part of this conversation the whole time.

"Are you high?" My voice squeaks at the end.

"What?"

"Guys like that don't date girls like me. You know what they called me in high school? Joanie. It means-"

"It means you're a nerd," Ez says. "But Bella, look around. You're at Cornell. We're all nerds."

Before I can respond, Tyler calls a Horns Up, the team skates out and the game begins.

We win, but Edward doesn't play.

He doesn't play the next night, either.

On Monday, he's sitting in "his" seat, doodling on a piece of paper. When he sees me, his face brightens and he smiles.

And for the first time, I start to think, Maybe Ez is right.

So I smile back, say hello when I sit down, and very slowly, very carefully, move my foot so that it's just barely touching his.

Throughout the whole lecture, he doesn't move his foot, and when he walks with me out into the snow, he gives my scarf a playful tug.

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And just like that, it's December. An entire semester has passed. I just need to finish this one last exam, and I'll be done. There's a party tonight, and tomorrow morning I'm flying home.

When Prof. Iowa told us part of the exam would be identifying quotes, I was pretty nervous. Now that I'm in them, though, it's not so bad and the answers are coming pretty quickly. I sneak a sideways glance at Edward; he seems to be on a roll as well.

I finally admitted to him that I knew his secret identity as a hockey player the last week of classes. I said if just like that, too, and he laughed. He asked if I'd been to any games, and I bragged about my free Pep Band hockey tickets. "I'll have to look out for you next time," he'd said.

The next game was an 8-4 rout over St. Lawrence and Edward finally got some playing time, even scoring an assist on a goal late in the third period. I could have sworn he looked towards the band after he did it.

Essay section. _Discuss marriage and death in three plays. Much Ado About Nothing_ is the obvious one, so I start there.

We only had a few lectures after the Scarf Tugging Incident. After each one we walked a little farther across the Arts Quad, so that by the last day he was basically walking me to Italian. During one lecture, he leaned over to whisper a question about a date (the year kind, not the dinner-and-a-movie kind), and I swear I got Goosebumps. It's been almost two weeks since classes ended, though, and this is the first I've gotten to see him.

If I'm lucky, we'll finish the exam at the same time.

Extra Credit. _Name the band that performs "Henry the Eighth."_

I almost laugh. Thank you, Lauren.

I'm checking through my answers one last time when I notice some movement to my left. It's Edward, and he's done. He smiles as he slides by, hands in the exam, and then he's gone and I'm left wondering if this is how a semester of super subtle flirting ends.

The exam is as done as it's going to get. With a sigh, I pack up my things, bid Prof. Iowa a Merry Christmas, and leave the exam hall.

"That extra credit question was bullshit."

I nearly jump out of my skin. Edward's leaning against the wall across from the hall. He waited for me.

"It's Herman's Hermits. My babysitter had a major crush on Peter Noone."

"Huh," he says. "I had no idea. I just put down U2."

"Who's that?"

"An Irish rock band. They're pretty good. They have a new album coming out soon, I think."

By this point we're outside standing next to the big A.D. White statue on the Quad. It's only 3:30pm, but it's already starting to get dark.

"So."

"So."

"I live on West," he says, jerking this thumb towards the dorms at the bottom of the Slope.

"I'm that way." I nod my head back in the direction of North Campus. "When do you go home?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. You?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence.

Oh, screw it. "So, there's a party tonight. I mean, it's going to be mostly band kids, but if you wanted to go…" My voice trails off as emotions chase across his face. Hopeful, happy, and then-

"Shit," he says, closing his eyes. "That would be great, but-"

"No big deal." Kill me now.

"No, Bella, I really want to go it's just-"

"Really, don't worry about it, it was a stupid idea-"

"I have a girlfriend," he blurts out.

I want to sink into the ground. Bury myself in the snow and stay there until they find my body in the spring thaw. I'm such an idiot; of course he has a girlfriend!

"I have a girlfriend," he repeats. "From home. She's still in high school and we've been doing the long-distance thing and-"

I really don't want to hear any more. I can't. "No, I get it." Is Alice home? I can't remember if she had an exam today. "That's gotta be hard, the long-distance. Yeah." Keep it together for a few more seconds.

"Bella." His voice is soft and his eyes almost look wounded.

"I, uh, I gotta go." My throat catches on the last word. "Have a safe flight tomorrow." I turn to leave but he stops me.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry."

There's nothing to say, so I just shrug and look at some point over his shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Edward."

He opens his mouth likes he's going to say something else, but then he just sighs, his shoulders sagging. "Merry Christmas."

I walk as fast as I can without it seeming like I'm running away. I leave him by the statue in the snow. And even though I don't dare turn around, I know he stands there, watching me go.

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**Near Avignon, 1348**

They lived only fifteen miles apart, both farmers. He raised sheep, she could weave. In the spring sometimes their families would go into Avignon to sell their wares. It would have been easy for them to meet.

But it was not to be. The Black Death claimed them both before they were sixteen.

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**Ithaca, NY, October, 1985**

"To 177!" Jasper crows, holding up his shot glass.

"To 177!" I reply. We clink glasses. The tequila burns down my throat, but not nearly as bad as the first two. I am well on my way to getting completely hammered, which is exactly the point. Tomorrow, I'll get back to all those applications that are driving me crazy. Tonight, I'm celebrating.

"I don't know how y'all drink that shit," Alice slurs, taking a sip of her beer.

Jasper gives her hand a tug. "Come on and sit here, darlin'."

Alice gives a squeal as he pulls her down into his lap. "I was fixin' to get some more popcorn." Her protest is rather weak, and she shuts up entirely when Jasper drunkenly kisses her.

"Oh, gag me with a spoon!" I throw some random popcorn kernels in their direction, but the only reaction I get is Alice flipping me off.

The truth is I'm used to this behavior. It took all of two weeks sophomore year before they hooked up, and they haven't been apart since. They're already a pretty affectionate couple. Add a little booze and you've got a southern fried make-out session.

I grab her beer and take a long pull before standing. "I'm getting another drink."

It's a Friday night, so of course Chapter House is full, and it takes me minute before I can finally squeeze my way up to the bar. Unfortunately, I'm in the corner, so there's no chance the bartender is going to see me anytime soon. Especially since he seems particularly enamored with some blonde bimbo with enormous…

Holy shit, it's Rosalie! Last time I saw her was the day she moved out of our dorm, three days before me. She "gave" me her large rug, the one that stretched under both beds and over half the room, which I thought was nice until I realized the next day that everything had to be taken out of the room. Alice and I spent all afternoon trying to get that thing out of there.

She hasn't seen me, which is good, because I have no interest in chatting it up about old times. The bartender keeps trying to flirt with her, even though everything about her body language says she isn't interested. She turns around, and her body relaxes. She must be talking to someone, because I see her hand whoever it is behind her some money, and then the two switch places at the bar. She heads back towards the tables in the other room, and her boyfriend….

No. No. No no no no no.

It's him.

Edward.

I know I'm drunk, but I am almost completely sure I didn't shout out his name. I didn't even whisper it. But the second I think it, it's like his radar kicks in, and suddenly he's looking around the bar and staring right at me.

And then he smiles.

I've got a few seconds before he makes his way over to me, and I try to make myself calm. I haven't seen him since freshman year. Well, okay, I've seen him on the ice, but I haven't spoken to him since that disaster on the Quad. I feel my face heat up, a sure sign I'm blushing, and try to convince myself that it's just the alcohol making me flush. This is so stupid. He was a freshman crush. I've dated since then. He obviously has (stupid skank Rosalie). It means nothing that he's headed this way. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing-

"Hey."

When did the bar get so quiet?

"Hey," I say back. How is that in three years he's changed so much and yet still looks exactly the same?

"How've you been?" he asks, like it's been only few days since we last spoke, not three years.

"Good, you?"

"Good."

Some frat guy tries to squeeze his way up to the bar, jostling me. I pitch forward slightly, and Edward puts his hands on my hips to steady me.

He doesn't pull them away. I don't want him to pull them away, but then I remember who is with and I try to take a step back.

"You better get back to Rosalie."

His brow furrows and his hands drop. "How do you know Rose?"

"We were roommates freshman year."

His next words are completely unexpected.

"That must've sucked." I stare at him like he's got a third eye. He notices and tries to backtrack. "I mean, she's nice enough. Not really all that friendly, though."

"Then why the hell are you dating her?" I don't mean for that to come out that harshly, or at all, really. I blame the tequila.

Edward's eyes are bugging out of his head like he's in a cartoon. "You think I'm dating her?"

"Well, I saw her with you and…"

"No. Just…No. She's dating my cousin."

I'm relieved to hear it, but there's something else I need to know. "Are you dating anyone?" Who knows, he and the Hometown Skank could be engaged.

"No," he says, softly but firmly. "Are you?" I shake my head. "Good."

The bartender takes this opportunity to finally realize I want to order. "A fuzzy navel," I tell him. An idea takes root and I glance at Edward. "And two tequila shots." Edward cocks an eyebrow at me but doesn't object. He just orders a beer.

"To 177!" I clink my shot glass with his. He must not do tequila shots too often, because the look on his face is absolutely priceless.

"Why the hell do you do that?" he asks.

"It gets the job done faster." I wash out the tequila taste with a sip of my fuzzy navel.

"What's 177?" he asks after a moment.

"It's what I'm celebrating. It's my LSAT score."

"It's good?"

"It's fuckin'-awesome!" I grin widely.

"So you're going to go to law school?"

"I'm gonna try. Applications suck, though."

Edward nods. "I know. I'm trying to apply to-"

He doesn't get to finish, because just then I'm assaulted by Alice. She takes my face in her hands and tries to look me in the eyes. "Bella," she says solemnly. "It's time."

"Time for what?" Alice rarely drinks, so seeing her this shitfaced is a real treat. But right now, I kinda want her to just go away.

"Time for Hot Truck!" she cries. She pats her belly. "I need Truck to soak up all this alcohol." She makes a slurping sound and takes my hand. "Come on, come on, let's go, let's-" She stops short, finally noticing Edward. "Oh!" I can tell she's trying to appear more sober than she is. "Oh! Sorry. We're getting Truck now. But you don't have to come. Stay here. I'll see you at home?"

"Actually," says Edward. "Truck sounds pretty good right now, if you don't mind me tagging along?"

Alice answers before I can. "Yes. Yes! You can come. You can come to Truck with Bella. With us! I mean, with us!"

"Let me just tell my cousin. Meet you outside?"

I nod and shuffle Alice towards the door. It's tough, because I'm nowhere near sober either. "You're a spaz, you know that, right?"

She ignores me. "That's him, isn't it? Do you still like him? Do you want us to go? We should go. Jasper!" she calls out to him when she sees him outside. "We have to go!"

"Go where?" Edward emerges right behind us. God, I hope he didn't hear anything Alice said.

Either she's not as drunk as she's pretending to be or she's got the memory of a hummingbird, because Alice shouts, "To Truck!", grabs Jasper's hand and takes off down the street.

I look after the two drunken idiots. "You don't have to come."

"I want to."

We walk a few minutes in silence.

"So, law school, huh? Just what the world needs, another lawyer."

"Har har." I nudge him with my shoulder. "What about you? Planning to play for the NHL?"

He snorts. "Right. I'm applying to med school, actually."

"Yeah?" I whistle the theme song to St. Elsewhere and he laughs. "I couldn't do it. Blood. Yuck."

"Lawyers. Yuck."

"Hey, now!"

We're at Hot Truck now. Alice and Jasper have already ordered and are sitting on the curb, Alice resting her head on his shoulder. I don't want this walk to end, though. I want just a few more minutes with him.

"You know, I'm not real hungry. Our apartment is just up ahead."

"I'll walk you."

He does. He walks me all the way to the front door- well, the back door, really, since for the past two years Alice and I have lived in the basement apartment of a converted house. He waits for me to unlock the door but makes no move to come in.

"It was good seeing you," I start to say, but he interrupts me.

"I tried to find you, you know. That next semester. That girl I was seeing, from home…We broke up over break. I mean, I broke up with her. I wanted to find you and tell you that, but it's hard without a last name. But I wanted you to know…I did try."

The tequila is starting to make my head fuzzy and I can't process what he's trying to tell me. I understand the words, but not their meaning, so all I can say is, "Swan. My last name is Swan."

He smiles. "Masen."

"I know!" I laugh. "It's on your jersey."

"Right." He looks sheepish. "I don't want to go almost three years before I see you again."

I feel my cheeks heat up, and there's no way I can blame the alcohol this time. "Well, now you know where to find me."

"That I do." He reaches out to me, like he's going to stroke my cheek, but then he pulls back at the last second and stuffs his hands his pockets. "I'll see you around, Bella Swan."

"Okay, Edward Masen."

I wait until he's cleared the parking lot and rounded the corner before I go inside.

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**London, 1606**

Edward sighed and ran his hand over his face. No matter how he tried, he simply could not fall asleep, though the Lord knew he needed it. At dawn he would board the Susan Constant and leave this wretched city behind. Tomorrow, he sailed for the New World.

Knowing sleep was futile, Edward quietly dressed and made his way downstairs. Perhaps a walk along the river would soothe his nerves.

He found her in the front room of the boarding house, pouring over a copy of The Passionate Pilgrim in the dim candlelight. Isabella, the boarding house owner's daughter. She smiled when she saw him and asked if there was anything he required.

They spent the night together, in the little room, conversing in the candlelight, and Edward found himself wishing that his voyage would be delayed, just a few days, just a few hours. But as dawn broke, he knew their time together was drawing to an end. The grey sky held just a kiss of pink when he returned to his room for his belongings. On the stoop of the boarding house, Isabella gave him her book, her most treasured possession, in the hopes it would keep him safe. He kissed the palm of her hand, and then turned away.

Five months later he arrived in the New World, never to return to the Old one again.

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**Ithaca, NY, March, 1986**

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."

Alice is chanting in my ear, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her trombone shaking in her hands. My sax hangs around my neck and I'm watching through spread fingers, horror movie style.

We're tied 2-2 in overtime against Clarkson in the ECAC championship. First to score wins and goes on the NCAA Quarterfinals. Loser goes home with nothing.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, GOD!" Our goalie blocks a bullet.

Ez was right. This sport sucks you in.

We've got the puck now and are headed down the ice. Waterson passes to Edward, who takes to the goal. But they're on him now and there's no clear shot. "Come on, Edward," I mutter. "Come on." He fakes left and passes to Schafer, who rears back and-

"SCORE!"

I scream. Alice screams. Everyone is screaming. Somewhere in the midst of this, Jasper bangs out to opening for Davy and we play our fight song. On the ice, the guys tackle Schafer. In the midst of this chaos, I see Edward fling off his mask and look up in the stands.

It's something I've seen him do many times over the past few years. I always wondered who he was looking for.

Now I know.

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The first hour of the bus ride back from Boston is pure pandemonium. We're singing and shouting and basically having a party on that bus. You'd think it'd been us on that ice. It's been six years since we won the ECAC. This is new for all of us.

After that, things calm down. People settle into their seats to talk in small groups. Some try to play cards, others read. It's a long way back to Ithaca, but by now we're used to riding through the night.

We've just crossed into New York when the bus pulls off the highway and turns around. This perks people up.

"The team's bus broke down," Peter, our manager, tells us. "We gotta head back to Springfield and pick them up."

There's some amount of groaning before what this really means sinks in. It means hockey players, on our bus. While we've always traveled with the team, we've never traveled _with_ the team. Everyone begins to perk up.

The team's bus managed to make it into one of the rest stops on I-90. Some of the guys get off to help shift around instruments so their gear can fit under the bus. When they get on, the guys look tired, but so very happy, especially when we start to clap and cheer. People move around, making room.

"Alright if I sit here?" I wonder if he remembers that he used those same words over three years ago.

I wonder if it makes me a bit of a stalker that I do. "Sure," I smile and he sinks down with a small groan.

After a few minutes of cheering and congratulating, the bus settles down again. We're in the back, and it's easy to pretend we're the only ones here.

"So," I tease. "Anything exciting happen recently?"

Edward laughs. "I really wasn't sure we were going to pull it out."

Since we ran into each other in October, we've seen each other a few times. But then I got busy with the bands, and Edward got busy with hockey, and we were both drowning in applications. We met up a couple times to study in the library, but that's been it. The weirdest part is that it doesn't feel weird. It's almost like there's this unspoken agreement that we're both just waiting. Waiting for what, though, I'm not entirely sure.

"It was a crazy game."

Edward stretches out his long legs and lets out a long breath.

"You look tired," I say.

He laughs. "I wonder why."

"You want to get some sleep?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I want to talk to you, but…" He yawns.

"It's a long ride back. Why don't you get some sleep for a little while?"

He yawns again. "I'm sorry. I really wanted to talk to you." But his eyes are already closed.

"Don't worry about it," I murmur.

Within a few minutes, his breathing evens out and I know he's asleep.

He only moves once during the rest of the trip. Somewhere outside Albany, he slides down and rests his head on my shoulder. Shortly after that, I fall asleep.

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The lights come on as we turn onto campus, waking everyone up with a few groans of protests. It's 5:30am, and the sky is just starting to turn gray.

Edward waits for me outside while I deposit my sax inside, and then we walk down to Lynah so he can store his gear.

"Are you hungry?" he asks when he comes back out. "I got my car here. Maybe we could get breakfast?"

The only place open at six in the morning is the State Street Diner. Inside the patrons look tired and the wait staff looks exhausted. Jody, our middle-aged waitress, takes us to our booth and pours the coffee without even asking. After taking our order of eggs, bacon, toast, hashbrowns and one chocolate milk, Jody leaves us in peace.

"Chocolate milk?" Edward teases.

"What? I like it here. It's really thick." I rub my eyes and look around. "This place always reminds me of the diner at home."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "When I was little, for a treat sometimes my dad would take me to the diner after his shift. It'd be, like, midnight, and I'd wear my pajamas and he would have dinner and I'd have a big glass of chocolate milk." I laugh. "He did it again when I was home for break, but I insisted on dressing before we went."

Jody comes back with our food then and we spend the next few minutes digging in. I haven't had anything since before the games yesterday evening, and now that I'm more awake I'm pretty hungry.

"Have you heard back from any law schools?"

"Not yet. You?"

Edward shakes his head. "It's gotta be soon though, right?"

"I hope so. I'm sure I'm driving Alice crazy. I pounce on her every time she gets the mail."

"So how come you want to be a lawyer?" he asks. "You don't seem the ambulance chaser type." I flick a piece of bacon at him, but he just grins and pops it in his mouth.

"You can't laugh," I warn him. "In sixth grade we read _To Kill a Mockingbird_."

"And that was it?"

"That was it. I just thought Atticus Finch was so…brave, I guess. And I want to be that brave."

"Wow. And you were twelve years old?"

"Well," I smirk. "I've always been advanced for my age." He laughs. "What about you? Why do you want to be a doctor?"

"I read _The Island of Dr. Moreau_ and always wanted to have my own island full of human-animal hybrids."

I choke on my chocolate milk. "Seriously?"

"No!" He laughs, and then sobers. "I had an older sister." I automatically stiffen at his use of the past tense. "She had cancer, a brain tumor. There were some treatments, but nothing worked and she died."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"Don't be. I was really little, so I don't remember much. But what I do remember is going to see her in the hospital, in the pediatrics wing, and everyone there was just so…happy. I was, like, four, so I didn't really know what was going on. I just knew Maggie got to spend everyday in a place that looked like my preschool. I think I refused to leave once." A small smile crosses his face. "Anyways, when I was older, I realized it was the doctors and nurses that made that place what it was. These kids are dying, and they're giving them hope and laughter and peace. I just want to be a part of that, you know?"

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We leave shortly after that, and Edward drives me home. The sun is completely up now.

"So, what are you doing today?" he asks.

"I'm going to collapse. You?"

"Same. We have practice tomorrow morning." He brushes a strand of hair out of my face. "The next week is going to be crazy," he says. "But when the season is over, I want to see you again. I mean it this time. No more excuses."

I reach into my bag and pull out a pen and a scrap piece of paper. I write down my number. Somehow, we'd missed this step.

"Call me when you get back from Denver."

"I'm going to call you from Denver," he promises me.

For a second I think he's going to kiss me, but he just strokes my cheek, then heads back to his car.

One more week, I think as I watch him drive away. One more week til we know what we've been waiting for.

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**Ellis Island, 1899**

Their ships arrived on the same day, Edward's from Ireland, Elizaveta's from Antwerp by way of Dresden, Bialystok and her own village just outside Minsk. They were to go through processing at the same time, and take the same ferry to the island of Manhattan. The timing was perfect.

Except Elizaveta's father had a bad cough, and she refused to be separated from him. Father and daughter stayed on Ellis Island for two days until his cough was clear and they were allowed to enter America.

By then, Edward was already working with his cousin on the docks in Boston.

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**Ithaca, NY, March to May, 1986**

In the end, it's not enough. The magical season comes to an end in Denver. No way the band could afford to fly out there, so we're stuck watching on TV. We win the last game of the season, but that's small consolation. It's a total goals series, and the University of Denver outscores us 7-6.

It's almost one in the morning when the phone rings and I stumble out of my room to answer it. "Hello?"

"We lost." He sounds so dejected.

"I know. I saw."

"One goal, just one stupid, fucking goal." I hear him sigh. "I'm sorry I called so late. I just…I needed to hear you voice. I wish you were out here."

I wish I were out there, too.

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"So," says Alice as she settles on my bed. "How's the boyfriend?"

I roll my eyes. "I have to study for this midterm."

"It's a midterm for Wines." She grabs my notebook and tosses it on the floor. "Talk to me. How's the boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I say for what must be the zillionth time.

And it's true. He's not my boyfriend. Okay, yes, boyfriends take you out for dinner, or to the movies, or to wineries on the weekends, and sometimes hold you hand. All of which we've done over the past month. But boyfriends also kiss you. And that, we haven't done.

"Bullshit. He's around all the time."

I make a show of looking around the room. "I don't see him here now."

Alice slaps my leg. "It's 9pm on a Monday, not even Jasper is here now." She does have a small point. Edward is not over all the time. But he does have dinner with us sometimes. About once a week.

Fine, three times a week.

"So, I ask you one more time. How's the boyfriend?"

"Argghh!" I scream into a pillow. "I don't know! I have no idea what we are and it's driving me insane!"

"So why don't you ask him?"

"Because." I sigh and reach into the drawer of my nightstand. "Because I got this last week."

Alice looks over the envelope and understanding blooms across her face. "You got in? To Cornell Law?" She shrieks and wraps me in a hug. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. Because I'm scared? This is the only one I got into. I don't know where Edward's going, and now it doesn't matter. Even if he got into Cornell, he'd still be in New York City."

"Wait, wait, back up. What do you mean you don't know where Edward's going? Haven't you discussed this with each other?"

"No. Because that's something you discuss with your boyfriend. And he's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, God, you two are infuriating!" She falls back on the bed then raises herself up on her elbows. "Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

"I don't know, alright?" I cry. "I don't know. I think…I think I could very easily fall in love with him. But I can't."

"Why not?" Her tone is soft now, gentle.

"Because what sense would that make? There's five weeks to graduation. What are we going to do after that? Spend the next three to four years doing long-distance? That'll never work."

"You're right, maybe it won't work." Alice gets up, but before she leaves she adds, "But won't you regret never knowing if it could?"

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Today is it. Slope Day, the best day of the year. The last day of classes. Except this time it's my _last_ last day of classes. "It's our last Slope Day!"

Stupid vodka is making me sappy.

I'm sipping a very hairy fuzzy navel on a blanket on the Slope. It's barely noon and we've been drinking for almost four hours. Slope Day is the one day of the year I don't mind waking up early for.

"Do you remember our first Slope Day, when you tried to go shot for shot with Ez?" Alice laughs gleefully.

"I threw up in the bushes!"

"You totally threw up in the bushes!" We're both laughing hysterically now.

"Look!" I point down the Hill. "There's Edward." I jump up, fall on my ass, get up more carefully, and then careen done the Slope. The only thing that stops my momentum is Edward. He grunts and stumbles back a bit, but remains upright.

"Hey."

"Hey. Sorry about that," I snicker. "I might be a little drunk."

"Yeah? Well, that's okay." He leans down whisper in my ear and my body shivers. "I might be a little drunk, too."

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We drink on the Slope for a few more hours, then decide we need some food. The trek to CTB takes way longer than it should, and by the time we're done eating the beautiful spring day has been replaced with pouring rain.

"Come on, I live close by," Edward says, grabbing my hand and we race through Collegetown in the rain to his apartment on Buffalo.

We're soaked to the bone when we get to the empty apartment. Edward runs to the bathroom to get some towels while I shiver and drip in the middle of his bedroom.

"Here we go." He wraps me in a thin towel and rubs me down. "Cold? We should really get you out of these wet clothes."

It takes us both a minute to realize what he's said. I start giggling. "I mean, I didn't mean get you naked, I meant," he stammers. And we're standing so close, with his arms wrapped around me, and he's so sweet, trying to cover up his mistaken pick-up line, that I just go for it. I rise up on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.

He freezes. Time freezes. And then, slowly, he brings his mouth back to mine. One hand wraps around my waist, the other cradles the back of my head. When I fist his shirt at his shoulders, he deepens the kiss, carefully sliding his tongue against mine. As one, we move to the bed.

It's gentle. It's passionate. It's slow. It's intense. We come together without any of the normal first time fumbling. He knows where to kiss me, I know how to touch him. He sets my body on fire twice, and when he finally lets go…

There are no words.

After, he holds me to his chest, and I fall asleep to the tap of the rain and beat of his heart.

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I don't know what wakes me up, only that I do with a start. It takes a moment to remember where I am, what I've done. The bright green lights on his alarm clock read 0937PM. The rain has stopped.

Edward's still passed out, so I get up quietly and try to find something to wear on a quick bathroom trip. He's got a hoodie draped over his desk chair that hits me mid-thigh, and I'm about to decide this is good enough when I see it.

On the corner of his desk sits an acceptance letter to Harvard Medical School.

I freeze as all my insecurities rush back. We haven't talked about our futures, apart or together. He never told me he got in to Harvard. Not that I can be pissed at him, since I never told him I got into Cornell Law. What was this? A one-night (one-afternoon?) stand? I don't think I can handle it if it was.

I don't think I can handle it if it wasn't.

Shit.

As quickly and as quietly as I can, I put on my still-damp clothes. Luckily the apartment is still empty. Edward rolls over once, when the door to his room squeaks, but he doesn't wake up.

Outside Slope Day is still going on in full swing. I ignore it and concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other.

When I get home, I collapse on the bed, to tired even for tears.

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**Bastogne, 1944**

The first thing Tony saw when he woke up as a brown-eyed angel watching over him. Later he told her as much, and she laughed.

Marie spoke some English, and Tony spoke a little French, but they seemed to communicate perfectly. She volunteered as a nurse in the make-shift Belgian hospital; he was an American soldier who had sustained injuries while on patrol. After two days, Tony was released back to his unit, but he visited Marie whenever time allowed. All the army was doing was waiting, anyway.

The boys were given a heads up that they were days away from moving out again. Tony and Marie made love that night and every other night until his unit left. She promised to write; he promised to come back to her.

It was eight months later that he was finally able to keep his promise. A part of him hoped that he would find her heavy with his child.

Instead he found the ruins of what had been the hospital. Locals told him none of the nurses had survived the bombing.

Tony returned home to Baltimore, where he went to medical school. In 1951, he volunteered to go to Korea. He never made it home.

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**Ithaca, NY, May, 1986**

There's a pounding at my door.

I ignore it. Just some drunks, I tell myself.

"Bella! Bella, please! Open the door."

Even the best denial can't explain away that.

I open the door and let Edward in. He looks completely disheveled in his jeans and hoodie- the hoodie I'd almost put on less that two hours ago. I know he must have grabbed the first items of clothing he touched and raced down here when he found me gone.

"Why did you leave?" he asks. It's almost a whimper.

It's time to lay it all out. I motion for him to follow me and lead him to my bedroom. I tell him to sit; he takes the chair, I perch on the edge of the bed. And I hand him my letter.

"You got into Cornell?" For a second he's no longer upset with me. "Bella, that's awesome! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Harvard Med?" I counter.

And here we are.

"You saw it." I nod. "That's why you left." Another nod.

"I just couldn't stay, knowing what we did was a one-time thing."

"You think this was a one-time thing?" Edward moves to the bed as I shrug. "Bella, most guys don't chase down a one-time thing."

"Well, then what? Are we going to sleep together until Graduation and then go about our merry lives? Because I can't do that, Edward. I won't!"

"What makes you think I would ever want to do that?"

I stand up and start pacing. "You're going to be in Boston."

"Yes."

"And I'll be here."

"Yes."

I stop and throw up my hands. "And how is that supposed to work?"

Edward reaches out for me and takes my hands in his. "The first question is, do you want to try to make that work? If you want to try, we'll figure something out."

"Do you want to try to make it work?"

He gives a small, tired laugh. "I thought that was obvious."

I pull my hands away. "Obvious? What part of the last few months has been obvious? The part where you never asked me officially out? The part where you never kissed me?" I wheel on him. "How come you never tried to kiss me?"

He doesn't answer, just let's out a slow, long breath and then scrubs his fingers through his hair. "Well?"

"I'm trying to think how to explain this without freaking you out." Well, now he certainly has my attention. I sit on the bed as he stands and takes over the pacing duties.

"From the first time I saw you, it was like I knew. I don't know how to describe it, but it was like, I just felt it, here," he clutches his chest over his heart. "I just knew, you were it. And when you asked me to that party, I wanted to go with you so badly, but I was still with Jessie back at home. I'd been wanting to break-up with her, but I felt I owed it to her to do it in person. And I couldn't do anything with you until that was done."

He lets out a breath, then continues. "I tried to find you the next semester. I saw you at every game, but by the time I could get out of the locker room, it was too late and you'd already left and everything was locked. And then in October I found you."

He sits facing me on the bed. "I wanted to kiss you that night. I wanted to kiss you so bad. But I needed to know."

"Know what?" I breathe.

He carefully wipes away the tears that have begun to fall over my face. "I needed to know you felt the same. If I tried to be with you and you pulled away…I needed you in my life. I wanted more, but if all you wanted was friends, I wasn't about to give that up."

Gently, he cups my cheek and presses his forehead to mine. "I should have told you about Harvard, and you should have told me about Cornell. You asked if I wanted to make this work. The answer is yes. It's always been yes. The real question is: What do you want?"

My mind is reeling from everything he's said and I can't answer him right away. He's right, though. Maybe he knew from the start, but I needed to be convinced. Not by him; he's right, he had been obvious. I needed to convince myself.

"You," I whisper. "I want you."

He kisses me. It tastes like hope, like happiness.

It tastes like the future.

"This won't be easy," I warn him.

Edward laughs. "What parts of this have ever been easy?" He kisses me again. "You have no idea how long I waited for you. I'm not letting you go now." He pulls back to look me in the eyes. "I love you."

Maybe he's always known. At least I know now.

I smile back. "I love you, too."

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**Ithaca, NY, August, 1982**

He never saw her coming.

Literally.

Edward was trying to find the cheapest Chemistry textbook when something soft yet solid collided into him and something hard and solid connected with his toes. Then they knocked heads.

And then he saw her.

And he knew.

She was shy and obviously embarrassed, but he thought she was beautiful. He couldn't help staring at her, even when it became obvious she had caught him. She slipped away and he didn't get her name.

He did get one name, though.

Shakespeare.


End file.
